


The Dream of a Lost Lamb Amidst a Harem of She-Wolves Packing Heat

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [18]
Category: The Bad Batch (2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attraction, BBW, Babies, Bathing/Washing, Breasts, Christian Character, Christian Erotica, Christianity, Dark, Dark Romance, Desert, Erotica, F/M, For Adults Only, Girls with Guns, Gun Violence, Guns, Harems, Jealousy, Large Breasts, Loss of Virginity, Love Stories, Mutual Masturbation, Nannies, Overweight, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Apocalypse, Religious Content, Rimming, Romance, Science Fiction, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Virginity, Weapons, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22403407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: After the death in childbirth of his favorite concubine, the Dream enlists me to care for the newborn infant. I soon learn, however, that the harem my employer has made for himself is seething with envy and rage and that he hired me for my plump appearance, believing it would not stir in the others jealousy or animosity.When the Dream and I begin to become attracted to each other despite his initial plans, however, the concubines take cruel and horrible vengeance leading me to flee into the desert.Only after the man I have fallen in love with comes looking for me and brings me back to his mansion in Comfort does passion finally erupt and the shit really hit the proverbial fan.Even though there supposedly is no shit in Comfort.
Relationships: Arlen & Honey, Arlen & Honey & Miami Man, Arlen/Miami Man, Miami Man & Honey, The Dream (The Bad Batch)/Me
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Comments: 26
Kudos: 9





	1. Waking Up to The Dream

**Author's Note:**

> That is either the best synopsis I have ever written or the most embarrassing. :/
> 
> This is also probably the darkest and most twisted entry in this series. But that also is partly influenced by the film itself. It wasn't the most civilized good tasted thing on the planet. So I'm rolling with that tone in mind.
> 
> Packing Heat here references guns, not the other meaning. :/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dream asks me to care for his newborn and motherless son as I experience the resentments boiling beneath the surface of his harem.

I was dying under a sun which no longer cared for me and a ground that seemed too damn dry to welcome me back to the clay out of which God had made us all.

Exiled into this land frequented by the Bad Batch for reasons I couldn't remember, I had stumbled across the desert landscape only to find that I was dehydrated and about to die. I would surely have done just that if it wasn't for a shadow which fell upon me, blocking me from the sun's angry and persistent stare. I looked up from the ground to find a man staring down at me. The fact that he was male was betrayed primarily by the shape of his body and clothes. With the sun behind the stranger's back, I saw little more than his form for he seemed more like a black shadow than a human being. He was surrounded by a group of other, lesser statured creatures that seemed female and were also carrying what appeared to be guns.

"Will _she_ do?" the first shadow spoke and I smiled weakly knowing I had been right guessing his sex.

Yes came the reply in its very many variations, "yeah," "okay," "sure," "un huh," and so forth.

"She sure is _fat_ enough," one said and my smile disappeared. I'd heard that enough throughout my life.

I would have cried then if I could have but there was hardly any moisture left in my already noted large body. It was just as well. Best not to cry and turn the sand to mud beneath my cheek.

"Bring her," the man with the deep voice commanded. 

The girls with the guns at first tried to lift me but finding it difficult, two of them took an arm each and dragged me across the hot desert floor. When these two became bored or tired they would switch with fresh unweary women . I felt my cheek bleeding as it brushed against the dirt and pebbles on the ground and my shirt eventually ripped, causing a breast to escape and my stomach to begin to get scratched and wounded also. Blood smeared across my face, torso and legs and eventually one of the women thought they should bring this to their boss' attention.

"She's getting pretty banged up," she commented.

"Is she still alive?"

"Yes."

"Well that's all that matters. I'm not taking her to fuck. That's not what you want _right_?"

The harem, for that was all it really could be I realized even in my half-dazed and wounded state, murmured its consent.

"So let's just get her home," the man stated. "It will be dark soon and the cannibals will be out."

They dragged me a little quicker after that and having heard the word "cannibal" I did not complain but lost consciousness altogether.

* * *

I was taken to a mansion in the heart of a settlement in this wasteland I had been forsaken to. It was called Comfort and the main thing it shared with the condition it was named after was that now I was being fed, given water and shelter. It took about three days for me to struggle back to complete consciousness, though, and during that time I was cared for by a series of the girls that had found and dragged me across the desert. Cared perhaps was too strong a word. They treated me like a dog they had found and were forced to take in and look after. I knew it was only due to the probable instructions given to them by the man whom was their Master.

This man was nowhere to be seen during my recuperation until I was told to meet him on the fourth day. 

No fresh clothes had been provided for me and I had been lying naked in the bed of my makeshift hospital room. I had been forced to listen to the man's concubines insulting my appearance for much of this time and was grateful to be given my old shirt and pants until I saw how badly torn they were.

"Is there anything else?" I asked.

"No," my nurse, a thin girl in her twenties with ebony hair smirked. "This isn't Pennington's honey."

"But some of the girls are _pregnant_ ," I stated, knowing that one of the maternity outfits would fit even if it would bring me shame to have to wear it.

She turned around leaving my point unacknowledged.

Seeing no other option, I sighed and wore my old black T-shirt backwards. The back wasn't as ripped and my boob would stay hidden, as it should be.

Dressed now, I was led to a room that should have been an office but looked almost too garish to be. The whole mansion I had glimpsed parts of looked like the Playboy mansion I used to hear about. Women lounged around or were at work in its many rooms.

Subsequently, the man waiting for me in the red and gold curtained room looked like a seventies porn star; when such films were in vogue, shot on film and not home video, contained plots and reasonably decent acting by actors who had failed in their perspective film careers. My savior's hair was dark, shoulder length and waved. His top lip sported a moustache that would have made Harry Reems proud. He appeared to be in his forties or fifties but could have passed for younger.

"Hello," the man greeted. "Glad to see you up and about."

"Thank you for saving me," I said getting my gratitude out of the way before this man spoiled it as I feared he would inevitably do.

"Your shirt is on backwards," he remarked, noticing this for the first time as he extended a hand for me to shake. I did and then swiftly dropped it.

"It's ripped to shreds from the front and hardly decent. "

"It's your old one?" he asked obviously confused as to why I would choose to wear a damaged top.

"No other one was offered," I explained. "I asked for one but..."

"We'll fix that as soon as possible," he promised with a politician's smile.

"And a bra too," I asked. The other women here looked like they had breasts that were not acquainted with the law of gravity but I could not unfortunately claim the same.

"What size?" he asked like he worked in a lingerie store. 

I told him and he nearly choked. "I'm not sure we carry that particular size," he stated. "But I'll find the next closest letter of the alphabet available. My name is The Dream by the way."

I didn't think that was an actual name. It was a state that you fell into after sleep. I didn't tell him this though. I think he could tell I distrusted both him and his false name and wanted to dispel my worry as quickly as possible.

"You're here for one simple reason," he informed. "I am this settlement, Comfort's, main leader of sorts. I live here with my women..."

"Concubines packing heat, you mean," I corrected.

"If you will," he smiled, annoyance hiding behind his teeth, as he linked his fingers together on the desk. "They are occasionally with child. Only recently my favorite died while giving birth. I now require a nanny for the infant."

"What's wrong with one of your usual women?" I asked incredulously. "Some of them seem to be pregnant; they could nurse the baby."

The Dream suddenly lost his smooth smile. "They refuse to feed or care for him."

"So the baby is a boy and your concubines are bitches," I hazarded a guess.

"There seems to be a problem as of late," he confessed. "I am finding it difficult to keep them in line. They are fighting all the time about rank and the like. They hated the baby's mother and are taking it out on an innocent."

I nodded in understanding. "Because you loved her more than you love them."

A bitterly amused laugh escaped from the man's lips. "She may have been my favorite but when did I say anything about loving her?"

I was shocked by his blunt honesty. "You speak awfully flippantly of the dead."

"She knew the facts. That's why I liked her more. Do you think I would have so many women if I was truly in love with any single one of them? Truth is, I have never been in love."

"That's why you keep adding more and more," I summarized. "You keep hoping the next one will be it."

"And it fucking well never is...because love is as big a crock of shit as the pot of end at the rainbow you can never hope to reach."

I gazed at him defiantly. "I believe it is."

"And that was why you were burning to death under the desert sun."

"And why you keep increasing your harem."

We stared at each other from across his fancy oak desk, him leaning forward across it and I in the too fancy chair of red and gold and mahogany. When he leaned back, I could see that there was surrender in his eyes and I think I found myself liking him in that moment when I knew that I really shouldn't.

"So what if we're both foolish believers?" he said defeated. "We'll die just as badly as all the unbelievers who have never truly been in love. For you haven't found it either have you..."

He realized for the first time that he didn't know my name.

"Erin," I offered. "And no I haven't. I thought I did once," I said recalling why I had been exiled. "But it was only a lie in the end."

"Well, anyway, Erin, I want you to look after my newborn and motherless son."

I suddenly remembered words spoken when I had been found under the scorching and unforgiving sun. "You chose me because you wouldn't be attracted to me. They're letting you hire me only because they don't see me as a threat."

It made me feel better that the Dream didn't laugh at my realization or offer one of his pretend smiles to soothe me. "You're not ugly. You're actually kind of cute; almost like a little girl...but you're a little too _big_ for my personal taste."

I was immediately wounded. To try to soften the pain I reminded myself that I kind of hated moustaches. Even if the Dream didn't look that bad wearing one. "Well I...I don't want you tasting me anyway," I said and looked down at my plump thighs, hating them. "Why don't you look after your own child?"

"I have Comfort to look after," he answered. "The needs of the many outnumber the one."

I looked up at him in astonishment. "Even your son's?"

He nodded.

I thought cruely and fairly how he probably hypocritically made sure his own physical needs were always taken care of especially by his harem of beautiful women. A wave of pity for the poor, little, abandoned infant and his dead mother claimed me then. He really had nobody and the woman whom had given birth to him was probably crying from Heaven knowing her son was alone and uncared for.

"Can I see him?" I softly asked the Dream.

Knowing he had my consent from the compassion he heard unmistakably in my tone of voice even before I had made it official, the man smiled. "Why certainly."

* * *

The nursery was nice enough. Comfort's leader brought me there himself and I commented that I liked the color of blue chosen for the walls and bedding.

"It was his mother's choice," he shooed the compliment away as not belonging to him.

Peeking into the crib, I saw the baby and he in turn looked up at me with brown eyes the same color as his selfish father's. "Can I hold him?" I asked foolishly, earning a warranted look of disdain.

I reached into the crib and lifted the baby boy out, holding him to my chest. It felt natural and the child didn't seem to mind. "What's his name?" I asked, rocking him back and forth gently.

"He doesn't have one," my companion stated. "His mother died before she ever announced one."

Now the Dream warranted a rolling of the eyes. "Can't you think of something."

He looked genuinely befuddled. "I'll get to it later," he said. "Actually, I've got things to attend to. Plumbing concerns etc...I'll leave you with him. Press the button on the wall for milk for the baby or anything else you need."

I looked at him in horror. "They wouldn't try to poison him or anything would they?"

The question seemed to affront him. "No. My girls would _never_ do anything like that."

* * *

The baby and I got on well together. I preferred being with him then the others and I was grateful when one of the Dream Girls brought the milk and then quickly left. Despite my employer's words, I tasted the milk first for anything seemingly off. Only when I deemed it as being fine did I feed it to the infant in the bottle provided.

Watching him feed, I heard my own stomach begin to growl. When another girl arrived disturbing our solitude with a change of clothing for me, I was glad to hear the news that supper was soon and I was to eat in the main dining room with everyone else. That last bit was frightening but the first part was welcome since I was famished.

The bra the Dream had sent was nowhere near the H to J I usually take, being an E instead, but it fit even if it pushed my breasts unflattering into the middle.

The t-shirt also did nothing for my vanity.

When you are overweight it is a pretty big rule to avoid wearing white. It makes you look even fatter than you are. I guess, the Dream's concubines wore it while they were pregnant, however, proud of their pregnancy itself for the t-shirt they had given me was large enough to fit. Across the front of it read "The Dream is Inside Me." The shirt bestowed upon my person, though, had an extra word scrawled hastily on it in what appeared to be permanent marker.

It now read: "The Dream is **NOT** Inside Me."

As I made my way to the large banquet table where we all were to feast, I could see the Dream, himself, now in tinted glasses, presumably eyeing the shirt on my wide frame in confusion. He sat at the head of the table as he was framed on either side by his varied assortment of women, staring at the added word to his advertising campaign on my chest.

"What the Hell is written on your shirt?" he asked finally. "Did you do that?"

I thought with some inner conflict between pleasure and outrage that, at least, he still thought enough of me as his property to be disgruntled by the suggestion that I wasn't his. He couldn't find me _too_ disgusting afterall.

"No," I answered , peering at him from the very end of the table, self conscious but also vexed. "It was given to me like this."

I felt the woman surrounding me cast angry and threatening glares in my direction, as if their eyes were arrows that could kill just by being aimed at a target.

The solitary man looked at his harem. "Which one of you added that?"

The girls all remained quiet, smiles upon their painted and smug lips.

"It's okay," I muttered. "It's _true_ anyway."

He turned to stare at me but something in my expression made him seem to soften. I think he sensed that I was afraid and he was suddenly regretful he had brought me to this den of she wolves whom could tear me apart. The memory of them refusing to care for his newborn son was probably fresh in his mind, also, and so he dropped it in haste.

The food was served. Having not eaten for days, I felt almost embarrassingly ravenous for it, almost as if I wanted to attack the concubine serving it but held off as best I could. Even when it was placed before me, a pretty assortment of fruits and vegetables I stopped myself from devouring it, wanting to thank God first properly for giving it to me.

After I had finished my prayer of gratitude, I noticed everybody was staring at me as if I was an even stranger object than being the sole fat girl in a svelte and striking harem.

"What were you doing?" the brunette to my right asked in disgust.

"I was saying grace," I replied, quickly glancing to the Dream who was staring at me in stern irritation. "Thanking God for the food."

"The only god is sitting at the head of the table," another girl spat. "Thank him."

I looked at the Dream who was looking back and with those tinted sunglasses of his I would be damned if I could tell what he was thinking because his face suddenly looked impassive and unreadable. "Well since I thanked the Lord, I'll thank you now too," I said and nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he returned with a similar little nod and I felt suddenly shy because it seemed out of place: that small human moment between us.

"Could we eat now?" one girl asked, perturbed and I doubted it was hunger making her that way.

The Dream finally broke our stare. He stood in a slow and showy manner and extended his hands. "Dig in," he announced.

He didn't need to tell me twice.

* * *

After dinner, I was grateful to return to the nursery and the sweet, little, baby boy there waiting for me. He was crying and I eagerly took him in my arms, sat down in the nearby rocking chair and gently rocked the infant back and forth, cooing to him softly. In the act of trying to stop his tears, I hoped to prevent my own. The meal had been horrible. The women had not stopped insulting me under their breath. One had even been so bold as to speak loudly to the Dream, telling him that I was too big and would eat all of the food. This had sent the whole group tittering until their Master had ordered them to be quiet and to behave, sending the questioning Dream Girl off to her room without the rest of her supper.

It hadn't just been myself though. The women had turned on each other eventually; I could tell they were often kicking one another under the table or delivering quick elbows to those eating beside them.

I had no taste for violence or rivalries and was grateful to be back somewhere safe and quiet with the baby in my arms, who couldn't yet talk so could not hurt another person's feelings. I was so focused on the warm miracle close to my heart, I failed to hear the door opening. How long the visitor stood there watching me, I had no idea. I only became aware of his presence by an obviously uneeded cough.

Raising my eyes, I saw the Dream standing in a robe of navy blue silk. He had dressed for bed but for some reason had come to the nursery before going there and to whatever girl he had chosen for the night.

Or girls if he so fancied, I took it.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized. "That wasn't called for, was brutal and uncivilized. You have my sincere vow that it will never happen again. You can take your meals separately from now on. Maybe in here with the baby?"

"I'll do that but it's okay," I said, feeling tears threatening to fall now that the little boy was asleep in my arms and my host was giving me genuine sympathy. "I feel worse for you."

"How's that?" the Dream asked in confusion.

"You set yourself up in this mansion thinking you were safe and sound with your harem," I stated, looking ahead of me but not at him. "But you packed yourself in with the most dangerous enemy of them all: a group of jealous, angry and spiteful women. And you gave them all guns to make it even worse. They've started fighting for you now and there will be Hell to pay. An Hell, after all, hath no fury like a woman scorned after all."

I couldn't tell him then that I knew from experience what I was talking about.

The Dream slowly walked towards the chair where I was sitting with his child. He squatted in front of me and I was forced to look at him.

"Those women would kill for me," he said meeting my eyes. I could see his own now behind the glasses from this close range. He believed his own words without question.

"Yes, they'll kill each other and possibly you too," I said pleadingly. "You should have read your Bible. Those women then were always fighting and competing and nothing has changed. Women are catty and competitive. Throw in a man and things turn to shit even faster. I'm afraid for you...And your baby," I added quickly.

I thought I saw a subtle shock register on his face as if he were unused to pity of any type. He probably was, I knew, having made himself a figure to be respected and feared. He looked down at his child and started to stroke the nameless boy's hair. "You still believe in a God after all this sorrow?" he asked, choosing not to look at me now.

"Yes," I answered. "More than ever. And I'll pray for you."

"I don't need prayers," he stated as he stood and looked down at me condescendingly. "Prayers are for those who are in need and are suffering. I have everything I need: I have _Comfort_. And Comfort has its God: Me"

He was turning to walk away, back to the doorway and presumably his bedroom and his night of lust and pleasure. I was angry then and perhaps a little wounded still that he would never consider me worthy of eliciting or giving it.

"Hey," I called back. "Does my lowercase god have a name besides 'The Dream?'" I asked a little too snidely for my own good.

He stopped, turned around and stared at me from the doorframe. Unexpectedly, he spitefully slammed the door shut loudly, waking up the baby and making me spend another hour trying to quieten the poor and terrified child until he would stop crying and fall asleep again.


	2. Living Inside of a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dream and I grow closer as the man feels his power gradually slipping away.

I was starting to think of the Dream's child as Jack which meant I was falling in love with him. You needed to name objects that you loved. Maybe that's why God left Adam in charge of that task with the animals when he had first made man but had named Adam and Eve himself: It was a special gift bestowed upon them in a way.

I'd wake up in the morning and care for the boy as I would often have to do during the night. The poor child would often awaken, crying for a mother that was no longer there, and have to settle for just me instead: a woman with virtually no baby raising skills other than what her dolls had provided her with when she was a child. It wasn't hard to love him, though. He was sweet and vulnerable and often I would hold him to my chest and try to calm him down.

We took our meals alone together in the nursery and I was surprised that often the Dream would make his way to the blue little room, seemingly just to see how things were. Of course, the leader of Comfort liked to be lord over everything so we fell under his jurisdiction also. I think the man was falling for the baby too,however. He'd look into the crib with something close to affection written all over his face. 

When he visited he'd stay for a bit and talk. Weirdly enough he disclosed to me that Comfort's economy was mostly held in place by the drugs he had his concubines make. This was disclosed casually as if drugs were Tic Tacs and it didn't take a genius to see what warped point of view had brought the man to the exiled world of the Bad Batch. 

He also enjoyed talking about the settlement's plumbing and how he had freed the place from feces altogether. It appeared to be an obsession with him and I couldn't help but tease him about it during one visit.

"So tell me one thing, Mr. Dream," I had tried to say innocently enough.

"What's that Miss Smyth?" he had replied.

"Are you a scat man?"

He looked taken aback by the question, his moustache twitching but I couldn't tell if this was a sign of guilt or if he was repulsed at the very notion.

"Because you sure do talk a lot of _shit_ ," I added coyly.

Knowing I was joking then, the Dream had started to laugh. When he had composed himself a little, he rested back against the crib, his hands on its top rail and stared down at me as I sat in the rocker, cradling his son. "How'd you get lumped in with the Bad Batch, Erin?" he asked.

I shifted in the seat and looked down at the baby. "I don't want to talk about it," I stated.

Perhaps the sad tone in my voice told him to drop it because he didn't pry but I would often find him staring at me in curiosity, trying to work out in his mind the reason for my disgrace.

The women hardly ever saw me now, other than their bringing in the meals for me and Jack. But I don't think they forgot about me either. The Dream's mansion was a powder keg and the girls were the gun powder inside of it just looking for a reason to explode. When by chance I was forced to encounter them, I was usually insulted and on the rare occasion even pushed. I never broached this to my employer, however, afraid of what the offending concubine may do in retaliation. Suffering in silence seemed as good an option as I would be given and the baby was always there to make things better with a smile or coo.

His father wasn't so bad at cheering me up either, although, I'd never tell him such. One day he brought me a larger bra and clothing that actually fit better.

"Care to let me see you in it?" he asked eyeing the bra and then me.

I thought he was joking at first Compliment the fat girl to give her a thrill. Then I noticed the way his eyes lingered on my chest and I knew he was being serious. I guessed that being in his house he thought it gave him the privilege to see and do whatever he wanted even with a big girl like myself. He'd come to see me as his property no matter what his concubines intentions had been.

I thought of showing it off for him and felt my clit swelling between my legs and a pressure high up in my vagina despite my embarrassment at the prospect.

Instead I shyly told him no and he responded with "Suit yourself," as he headed out the nursery door, leaving me blushing and still cursedly hot.

I knew he had gone off on one of his ventures throughout Comfort with his harem in tow. He did it a few times a week. Sometimes I'd watch them out the window with Jack in my arms. He looked like a proud rooster with his chickens all in line behind him and I couldn't decide if I should hate the man and his stupid arrogance or feel sorry for him because of it. It had to take an individual with a very low opinion of himself to make such an outrageous show of his luck with the ladies in order to win others envy. 

The raves held at night provided another brilliant chance to have his ego stroked. The Dream probably had never had it so good, I realized. In the real world he had been deemed undesirable. Here in this nightmare land he alone was deemed a king. No wonder he had renamed himself the Dream.

* * *

It came as a shock one day when the Dream came to the nursery and announced that the baby and I were expected to accompany him and the girls in their usual outing throughout Comfort. 

"We get to be a part of your parade now too?" I commented startled.

"Yeah," he replied. "You and the child cooped up all day. That can't be good for either of you. I can finally show you Comfort in person."

In truth, I had wanted to see the settlement and stretch my legs and go outside for a change.

"Jack and I thank you," I stated.

Shock and outrage flashed across the Dream's sunglasses adorned face. Then his lip curled as it dawned on him who this other man was in the hen house. "You went and named the baby without me?" he stated. There was no animosity in his voice only bemusement.

"We name the things we love," I told him in awkward defense.

He sidled up to me slowly and I was suddenly too timid to meet eyes obscured under the tinted glass. "Why'd you want to know _my_ name then, Erin?" he asked.

I had no answer for him. He smiled proud of the color he had so easily brought to my once more pale cheeks.

"This afternoon," he instructed finally in his deep voice, heading for the door. "You take up the rear."

In the doorframe he looked at me again, his hand resting on the knob. "Would you like that? To take it up the rear?"

And although I could not see it from under the dark sunglasses, I was certain the bastard winked at me before he closed the door behind him, more softly this time.

* * *

We walked through all of Comfort; the Dream and his entourage of women this time with a chubby woman and a tiny infant as the caboose to his beautiful train. The dwellers in the settlement looked at me now trying to figure out if I was pregnant or not. They probably were betting on that I was, I knew, for why would the Dream ever include an overweight addition to his collection of gorgeous gals.

Gorgeous the girls may have been but deadly they remained also. Several times I watched and shielded Jack's eyes as the Dream ordered them to reprimand any citizen of Comfort that had erred in any way from litter to graffiti. Upon finding a particularly rude young teenager, one blonde approached him and used the handle of her gun to beat the boy senseless with it until her Master was satisfied a lesson had at last been taught. She gave one more hit than was instructed and the Dream shouted at her in displeasure.

Once again, I thought it a very bad idea that my employer had given his women all guns.

Comfort was fine enough but unnerving as well, with its drug addicted denizens, and I felt myself feeling relieved when we finally marched back on home. I had come to think of it as such against my will. When the Dream asked if I would like to see one of the nightly raves when we were safely back inside the nursery, I subsequently politely declined. He looked offended and so I hastily made up the excuse that I didn't want to expose Jack to a group of revelers that were all high.

"So Jack stays home and you just come," the Dream suggested.

I stared into the eyes no longer hiding behind the sunglasses. I liked his eyes. They seemed thoughtful and sad somehow. "I can't leave him alone," I still declined.

"You still don't trust the others with him?" he stated.

"No," I replied.

We stared at one another for a moment, Jack sleeping peacefully in his crib by our side.

"I don't either," the Dream agreed with me and gave one possible explanation for his growing sorrow.

* * *

The Dream started to dine with me occassionally in the evening, shortly after I was incorporated into his bi-daily jaunts through Comfort. I could tell that he was getting tired of running the settlement. The responsibility was a weight he had started to feel as being too heavy on his shoulders. Maybe in the past he had turned to his women for escape. Now, though, with their animosity against one another swelling and their competition for his affection growing also, he was feeling pressure from outside and inside. The Dream's sources of comfort were dwindling.

He would eat with me and stare blankly at the food on his plate unless I could get a conversation going between us. Sometimes that was possible and then my heart would glow seeing him trade his moroseness for something more casual and light.

One day, as we ate our meal of potatoes and eggplant, I could not get my companion to smile or talk at all. His replies were grunts or monosyllabic affairs that seemed defeated before they were even started or finished. 

"Come," I stated as I arose and held his large hand in both of my pudgy ones. 

He stood in supreme irritation but let me drag him over to the crib. I scooped Jack up and placed the warm baby in his father's hands, thinking that when I was discouraged holding the child always cheered me up. I hoped it would have the same effect on the Dream. Seeing the man holding the child, I realized it was the first time he had ever held his own son. It seemed natural though. The man was surprisingly gentle with the infant. He rocked him back and forth and crooned to him in a soft whisper that Jack seemed to respond to.

"He likes you," I commented and instantly chastised myself because it sounded stupid commenting on how a son liked his own father.

"He shouldn't," the Dream remarked, staring at his son's sweet and smiling face. "Are you still praying for me, Erin?" he asked and his voice sounded incredibly weary again.

"Yes," I answered truthfully. Every night before bed I knelt by the side of my bed and asked God to watch over and forgive a man I didn't even know the name of.

"Good," the Dream replied, handing the baby back to me. "I _need_ it."

I placed Jack back inside of the crib after some minor fussing over him and when I turned back I found the Dream having walked over to a stool shaped like a giant building block. He sat on it, his shoulders slumped. The letter facing me was "S" and i thought about how it fit perfectly in a Sesame Street way.

S is for shoulders, sinful, sad and sorrowful.

Instinct took over me and I slowly walked towards him. By his side, his eyes not turning to me but remaining on the carpet on the ground, I took his dark-haired head and held it to my chest as I often did with his son. The Dream tensed at first but then accepted the comfort offered. His arm crept around my back, the other around my tummy, holding me closer to him. It was an embrace without any sexual connotation but one more of simple human sympathy and compassion.

"I can see why Jack likes you," he finally commented. "You're soft and warm and this here...it feels nice."

"Good," I commented and kissed his greasy hair as I stroked it.

"I made myself a kingdom and I no longer know what the fuck I'm doing," he confessed regretfully after a few minutes of silence. "Everything seems like it's one wrong breath from falling apart. I thought I was in control but I'm not. I gave _them_ all the power. They make the drugs, they control Comfort and I made a pack of she-wolves...they are jealous all of the time. They used to be happy with whatever I gave them. Now they each want it all. They are fucking well ready to kill each other for it too. It's driving me mad having to juggle the settlement and each of the girls needs. Things are going to shit even though I was supposed to have gotten rid of it all."

"Leave it behind then," I whispered tenderly. "Just get up and go." 

"I can't," he returned and I knew he was still too much in love with his pretense of power to give it up.

What was happening now was nothing more than a moment of clarity which had risen to the surface against his massive Id. In a bit, he'd try to wipe this conversation from his mind. He'd leave me to go to one of his concubines and they would stroke more than his ego again and he'd be lost to the image of the Dream he had made and fooled himself into believing just as much as everybody else in Comfort did.

Especially the women all fighting for singular possession of him.

And though I should have hated him perhaps for this conceit and delusion all I could do was hold him and give him my forgiveness and sympathy.

When Jack started to cry, demanding that I leave his father in order to return to the crib and hold him then, the Dream only held me a little more tightly and muttered, "One more jealous soul in this Godforsaken mansion."

Whether he was referring to his son or himself, the man possessively clutching me did not deign to reveal. 


	3. Still Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Dream defends me during an excursion through Comfort, the girls get jealous.

There was born a secret intimacy between us after the Dream's moment of emotional exposure. Meals still witnessed the man visiting and sharing them with Jack, often asleep in his crib by then, and myself, hungry for my friend's company as much as I was supper. Although he was never as vulnerable or without his mask of being completely in control as he had been that one evening, he was softer and gentler somehow and I often chastised my heart for being more moved at the sight of him than it should have been. For while we seemed like a happy family during those moments (father, mother and baby) always directly following our time together, father went back to his room to screw one of the many other available options to him while I was left trying to get the image of it out of my mind.

I could never be as thin or glamorous as the girls he fucked yet I often found the Dream's eyes lingering on me as if I were and this was more dangerous in a way. His harem was vindictive and my inclusion into their already too large and acrimonious group may send it overboard and into complete chaos. For the object of their affections to start lusting after a fat girl, when he already had their assortment of bountiful beauties, would no doubt be viewed as the ultimate insult.

The Dream knew this too.

So he and I appeared to be caught in some hesitant dance together that we feared the concubines would discover and make us pay dearly for. It was best, we both knew, if we kept our attraction, or whatever it was, safely reined in and just enjoy each other's company as chaste and innocently as we could.

Another night he came to me looking so tired I couldn't help but suggest that he forgo his nightly sexual escapade and get some much needed sleep instead.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, peering at me from behind his tinted glasses.

Not wanting to lie, I merely replied, "I just worry about you. You seem so tired. The girls keep you up all night."

I almost dropped the glass of juice in my hand as I realized that what I had just said could have two equally accurate meanings.

The Dream laughed sardonically. "Yes, that's true. To tell the truth, I'd like a good night's sleep but I'm afraid they wouldn't allow it."

The meaning between his own words was almost clear as we stared across the table at one another over our half eaten supper. Then he cemented it so that there was no doubt left at all.

"I _don't_ want to Erin."

I frowned at him in sadness and also in sympathy. The Dream had built himself a little paradise of sex, drugs and power but now he was tired of the first yet couldn't stop in the fear that his army of women would not let him. Sex now belonged to them, just another weapon he had bestowed upon them. And in their own need for power and control, they would keep making him pay with his dick and his come. 

I did not know how much I had influenced the man's sudden unwillingness to " _perform_." The answer was as hidden as the eyes under the glasses which were still fixed on me.

"I'm sorry," was all I could think of to say.

"Thank you," was all he could offer in return.

* * *

Travelling through Comfort again with Jack in my arms, once more the caboose to the Dream's entourage of women, one of the settlement's citizens became finally tired of guessing if I was pregnant or just merely fat. A man, obviously high and in his early thirties, ran up to me and touched my belly. The motion caught the Dream's eye from his place at the head of his estrogen parade and he turned around quickly to look past his laughing line of ladies to see one of Comfort's strangers feeling my stomach as I tried to back away. The baby started to cry as I met my employer's still sunglasses wearing eyes from the distance between us. I was scared and humiliated: emotions plainly written across my face.

One of the women, reading the Dream's expression, was about to reprimand the stranger by beating him with the end of her gun, but her leisurely pace was outmatched by the Dream himself. The concubines watched in shock as their Master began to beat the shit out of the man whom had accosted me.

At first, I backed away, clutching Jack protectively to my chest, grateful that the Dream was defending me from the unexpected situation. When I saw the blood flying from the stranger's face, however, and coating my savior's knuckles, I rushed to my friend's side and placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Don't!" I cried and the Dream stopped, his hands around the other man's collar to look at me.

We remained frozen like that, me standing and holding Jack to my chest, with my hand on the crouching Dream's shoulder, for a few seconds until my friend let go of his hold and let the bloody man fall to the ground. The Dream stood and we stared at each other again, something strange and powerful passing between us that made the hair on my body stand on edge and my heart glow strangely. Then we remembered what we were doing and whom was watching us. We turned in unison to find the harem glaring at us both, their faces eerily blank except for the jealousy and hatred in their eyes.

* * *

That night when the Dream, without his signature glasses, came to eat in the Nursery we were both quiet. Except for his asking me how I was after the event and me asking him the same, we ate in silence. I felt a shock of blue right through my body as if every nerve was alive and tingling. My nipples were sensitive and the feeling headed straight there as I tried to eat and failed. 

The Dream seemed to be sharing the same problem concentrating for he suddenly pushed his plate away and stood up, running a hand through his hair as he walked towards the rocking chair.

"There's something going on between you and myself, isn't there Erin?" he suddenly plaintively asked as he looked at me.

"I don't know what you mean," I feigned ignorance, turning my attention back to my food.

"Damnit!" he cursed. " _They_ can sense it. You're smart. I refuse to believe you can't either."

My damn nipples were tingling again and I issued a silent warning to them to stop it. I couldn't look at him though, no matter how much they or myself wanted me to.

"I get girls," the Dream spoke after a minute or two of painful silence. "Some of them are very young. I like their innocence. It's sweet and so unlike this whole damn place. But I never touch them until they are old enough to be touched and want me to. By then, though, that innocence is long gone. They always lose it. They can't keep it and I don't want them anymore but am stuck with them."

"That's kind of creepy," I commented.

"Yeah and it's true," the Dream countered without flinching. "But with you, you're old enough and you still have that innocence, Erin. I want it and I want _you_."

Taking a harsh swallow, I still couldn't bring myself to look at the man still fixing me with an intense gaze. He let out a sound almost like a stunted scream of frustration. Even this did not win so much as a glance from me.

Abruptly, he walked to the rocker and sat in it.

"Sit on my knee," the Dream ordered. "Or else I'll kick you out of this whole fucking mansion and Comfort as well. You'll never see Jack again."

Reflexively, I turned to look at him then, scared at the threat and being separated from the child I had come to love. Seeing him sitting there waiting for me, I shyly look down before I rose from out of my chair and walked towards him. My eyes fell to his knee and thigh. "I...I don't want to hurt it," I whispered.

The Dream extended his hand and I took it. "You won't."

Hesitantly, I sat down on his knee, parking my round ass on it gently. Seeing the bloody knuckles on both of his hands as they came to hold my large waist I remembered the man's protective act from that afternoon and knew that I was in love with him.

I kissed the Dream before he even kissed me.

Our lips met first, a sweet act that became more confident as it progressed. Mouths opening in unison, his tongue eventually came inside to find mine. I felt him bring his hand to my face as the kiss became more passionate, both of us equally giving in to it. My hand went to his arm and held it. I was feeling my legs spreading as I became more aroused, the delicious pressure growing down below simply from his lips, accompanied by that welcome and familiar throb. Sensing from my movement that I was becoming sexually excited by our kiss, the Dream moved his hand from off of my face and brought it to my legs. I squirmed in embarrassment as it dipped into my pants, brushing against my belly but my weight didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. Continuing on its journey, the hand slipped between my folds and found my already swelling clit. I gasped into his mouth and he bit down gently on my bottom lip as he rubbed the bud, slowly.

"Unnnnn," I sounded as I began to instinctively move my hips in response to the touch.

When the fingers began to move down to my vagina, I became frightened.

"Wait," I moaned, despite the Dream's hold on my lip, fearing he would tear that part of me that was still intact from never having been entered..

Instead his finger gently felt it as if he expected that it would be there, caressing it tenderly.

The Dream released my lip and buried his head into the crook of my neck. "A large slice of cherry pie for desert would hit the spot, I think" he said in a husky and amused tone of voice before he kissed the skin so close to his mouth.

He intended to have me and I wanted nothing more than to let him.

But seeing baby Jack lying in his crib, I suddenly became afraid of the other women lurking throughout the mansion like a pack of jealous she-wolves and feared what they would do to the child I now thought of as the Dream's and mine own. Grabbing the hand which was stuck down my pants and still playing with me, I pulled it out and struggled out of my wannabe lover's arms.

"The kiss was to thank you," I said, hopping off of his knee like a child after a visit with Santa Claus and heading for the crib. "Nothing more."

I heard him coming to stand behind me. He walked up to where I stood and brought his lips to my ears, making me tremble. "I know what you're doing," he whispered. "And I get that you're afraid. But they already sense that there's something going on between us. They're starting to figure out that it's your face I see when I'm with them and this plump body I wish that I was holding and inside of."

His hands came to hold my waist and then moved to rest on my large stomach, tenderly rubbing it. I almost started to cry right there and then because it was always something that I had wanted: for a man to not care that I was fat and to touch the thing I feared the most made me ugly, unwanted and undesirable.

"They will find out, Erin," he stated again more loudly but still low. "Because _we_ are going to happen. I don't give up that easily, I can assure you."

With that statement, the Dream pushed his head once more into my neck and gave it a kiss that turned into a bite; as if I were the meal he had wanted the whole time and not the hardly touched food left sitting on his plate.

I stifled a low sob of need and want and my suitor finally let me go. When the door closed behind me, I lowered my head over the crib and bit my lips as I started to cry; the tears falling on to the rumbled bit of Jack's baby blue blanket below me.

* * *

The Dream's words about the harem's awareness of our attraction were proven to be partly true later on in the night when I awoke and needed to head for the bathroom. One was adjacent to the nursery and I only needed to cross the room to get to it. Fearing going into any part of the mansion, besides this room, which was my sanctuary, I was grateful for this. While I was in there relieving a bladder which was too full for comfortable sleep, I thought I heard a sound coming from the nursery. My first thought was of Jack and I didn't even take the time to finish properly.

Rushing to the door, I opened the door only for a horrible scent to invade my nostrils, making me gag. The smell must have reached Jack's nose too for he started to wail and I picked him up to soothe him, pressing his small red face into my chest to help somewhat dampen the offensive odor. 

I walked towards my bed and saw instantly what was causing the whole room to stink. 

A pile of shit lay on my bed. No, a pile of shit was covering the whole thing. Somebody had been waiting outside of the nursery, it seemed, for the perfect opportunity to dump their dump all over my mattress. It was the concubines retaliation for the afternoon's showstopper of an event. Since Comfort had the plumbing to take feces far away from the settlement, my guess was that the girls had joined together to collect all of their daily waste for this little offering.

No.

Not only was it an offering but a warning as well.

_Stay away from the Dream or you'll be up to your neck in this stuff._

Samuel Beckett, the playwright not the time traveler, once said, “When you're in the shit up to your neck, there's nothing left to do but sing.”

I couldn't find out if the sentiment had any real validity, however, because I was too busy gagging to set free a single note.


	4. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one of the Dream's concubines discovers the man doing something intimate to me in the nursery, his harem takes horrifying measures to drive me from the mansion.

I tried my best to clean up the mess the Dream girls had left in my bed but the stink of it was overpowering and I had no idea what to do with the sheets or where to find new ones. Jack was wailing from the stench of the excrement and I rushed to the infant to try to calm him down. There was only one option left to me. I left the sanctity of the nursery to find help.

The baby held close to my chest, I rapped on each of the doors begging for help but all I ever heard was the sound of laughter on the other side. I wanted to curse the women, safe in their clean rooms with their own children if they had them, while Jack and I had been driven from the only room where we were ever welcome.

As I walked down the corridor, sandwiched between the sound of laughter from either side, I knew there was one last place left for me to turn although I dreaded what sight I would find and how I'd be received.

I knocked on the Dream's bedroom door and was surprised when he answered it himself. Once more, he was wearing his dark shades and a navy housecoat. I could see a pretty young thing lying on the bed behind him but tried not to look at her. She was only halfway decent on the outside and probably all the way rotten on the inside for I had caught a glimpse of the malicious smile on her full, red lips and suspected she knew exactly why I was there.

The man looked at me holding his child but seemed merely impassive, not even asking me what I was doing there.

"Where is the laundry room?" I asked.

"The what?" he replied.

"The laundry room," I repeated.

"A little late for that isn't it?" the Dream commented.

"There was...when I returned to my bed after...after going to the bathroom there was shit in it."

The girl laughed from her place on the bed, no longer able to contain herself.

My employer fixed me with a deadpan gaze. "Maybe you didn't get there in time and just didn't realize it," he remarked.

At his words the she-wolf turned into a gleeful hyena.

I felt the tears stinging my eyes. I had hoped that maybe the man would be soft and gentle and calm my frazzled nerves. Obviously, however, he was still upset about my turning him down hours before. "Forget it," I hissed. "I'll find it myself."

Turning to leave, I heard the Dream calling me back. "There are too many rooms in the mansion. Let me show you where exactly it is. It may pay to teach you how to do the laundry."

Despite the vague insult, I heard the young woman's laughter abruptly die behind me as her lover abandoned her in order to help me in my pursuit of clean bedsheets.

Still, I was hurt and angry and refused to look or thank the man as he lead me far away from his bedroom. Safely in a room apparently filled with all of the mansion's fine linen, clothing and the like, the Dream turned to me suddenly and more humanely. He went to hold me but I backed away, holding Jack closer instead and looking down at the floor and not at my guide.

"For fuck's sake, Erin, you know I had to say that!" he hissed at me when I wouldn't let him touch me. "She would have reported back to the others and then who knows what they would have done to you!"

I started to cry then and when he went to hold me next I let him. His embrace felt as warm and soothing as I had hoped. Fingers and palms rubbed circles on my back and even Jack seemed to quieten down.

"Now let's get your bed all looked after," he whispered and then kissed the top of my head.

"Thank you," I finally said.

* * *

We worked on it together. When the Dream saw the shape of the mattress under the soiled sheets, he swore before abruptly heading out of the nursery. Returning, his arms were filled with a fresh mattress.

"Where did you get that?" I asked as he exchanged the two items.

"A vacant room," came his reply. "Would you rather sleep there instead?"

I shook my head in refusal as I placed a fresh sheet over it. "What for? They'd only find me." I went on my knees to tuck the edge of the sheet under the new mattress.

"You can sleep with me," the Dream offered.

Raising my head swiftly to look at him, I found him staring at me intensely. He was being completely sincere and I turned back to finishing my work so I wouldn't have to see any hurt on his face when I rejected the offer. "Your bed is already full."

"I'll kick her out," he stated.

I looked up at him again. "We both know that would be a very bad idea," I said softly. "You admitted as much to me a little while ago, remember?"

The Dream studied me kneeling by the bed. There was a look of interested excitement on his face and as I glanced at his robe, in the area I was almost on eye level with, I saw that the emotion had spread to his groin.

Or started there.

"So tell me Erin. Do you pray for me like that?" His gaze ran from my eyes, down my body and to my slightly protruding ass.

I ignored him and the feeling of heat between my legs, changing my position instantly to remove the temptation and sit on the now, thanks to him, fresh bed.

Feeling him still staring at me, I simply mumbled a maybe.

The Dream sat down next to me in the beating of a heart. Before I knew what was happening, he had pushed me down on the bed and was leaning over me. "Your bed's all fixed now. Other than the comforter and pillows. You want to test it out?"

I wanted to so very desperately but pushed that want painfully aside. 

Brushing his hair tenderly out of his face so it rested behind his ear, I replied, "You'd better get back to your girl. She'll think you got lost on the way to the linen closet."

The Dream seemed to be wounded. He harshly got to his feet and gathered the dirty sheets. When he turned to face me I saw that the feces had smeared on to his fancy robe. Seeing it and his look of pained desire, I sat up and looked at him in my own pain.

"You were right," I stated. "I am scared. I know what women can do. Ever since I was little I saw how bad men can be but how worse a woman can be when she wanted to."

The words were possibly misogynistic but they came from hard won experience. "The girls I went to school with were no kinder to me than the boys. They teased me about my weight or said I smelled bad. They did horribly cruel things and a some of it was in secret, behind my back. The boys were honest in their meanness, at least. They never pretended to be better than they were."

The Dream was staring at me with kindness, understanding and compassion and I fell even more in love with him than I had thought possible. "You want to know why I'm in here? Why I am one of the _Bad_ _Batch_?" I asked wanting to test his own affection for me by telling him a past I wasn't completely proud of but which had helped in educating me too.

"I was in love with a man," I began. "I thought he loved me too but he was just using me. He was involved with this woman...she was in power. She was supposedly a feminist along with her group of friends and others in her prominent position and field. On and on they went about how better a woman was than a man...how fair and honorable and juste. It was always, listen to a woman's side of the story and believe her, they would say. This man and I danced around each other. It was all innocent. I never so much as touched or kissed him. I would have but it never got that far. Then he started doing things to hurt me...but whenever I tried to leave he'd pull me back...I found out one day the man had several other women. Women he _did_ touch and do _other_ things with. One of these women, she knew of me. He pissed her off too much one day and she threatened to tell on him. The man I had loved and admired for so fucking long...he threw me under the bus...without a second thought."

I was crying again. Under the heat of this land of the exiled it was easy to push the pain of the past aside. Reliving it now was agonizing. "He told his woman I was crazy. Maybe I was a little by that point with the gaslighting and games he played. But did she listen to my side of the story as she always claimed she would? No. She crucified me and humiliated me, throwing me out here to die and be forgotten. So I wouldn't spoil the image she had of her perfect little life and wonderfully _faithful_ lover. And her other feminist friends let her get away with it. Because feminism is just a cloak worn by those whom are merely selfists and fight for the cause simply because they _are_ a woman. But the moment you hurt their pride...it doesn't matter what your sex is. You're damned either way."

I could barely see the Dream now past my tears and my trembling body. I rocked back and forth, holding myself for comfort. "That's why I'm terrified for you and Jack and myself. Because I love you both so much now and I'm afraid of this harem of she-wolves you have made for yourself and what the Hell they will do if they find out that I love you and that you may love me back!"

I wept and shook, unable to look at my love anymore. The carpet won my attention instead. I wouldn't even dare to raise my eyes when the man came to stand in front of me.

"There isn't any 'may' about it Erin," he whispered.

The Dream touched my cheek and kissed the top of my head again before leaving the room and taking the dirty bedsheets with him.

* * *

I didn't see the Dream for days following the incident of the Harem's little gift left on my bed. No more invitations were extended either for going with his entourage into Comfort. Jack and I spent our days alone together and the empty chair at the head of my small dinner table broke my heart. I would look out my window to see my friend making his journey through the settlement but he never turned to look at me once.

I knew that he was trying to keep me safe. And in doing so my desire for him was only growing.

When the day finally came when he returned to the nursery, I was half mad with my need for him. As he entered the room I stared at him longingly as he slowly closed the door, placed his back against it and stared at me in return. 

"I missed you," I confessed softly.

"You watched me from the window whenever I went out," he calmly stated.

A nod from my head. "You never looked at me. How did you know?"

"I _felt_ you," he stated.

I turned towards Jack sleeping peacefully in the crib and placed my hands on the top rail as I heard the Dream coming towards me to give an alternate and more _physical_ meaning to his words.

Grasping lustful hands wrapped around to my front, each finding a breast to cup and squeeze hungrily. The baby yawned in the crib as I arched my back. My nipples hardened from the touch and shot forth a surge of pleasure, making my clitoris swell and throb between my legs. I felt his erection against my full ass and moaned in pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?"

I wanted to say no and beg him to stop because the others would find out and make me pay accordingly again but I was too aroused to form any words other than,

"Yes."

He grabbed my crotch suddenly and pushed it towards him, making my body bend slightly. Clasping my hands on the crib he spread them out and then repeated the action with my legs.

"We can't," I said. "N-not with the baby here. He's sleeping; we'll only wake him up."

The Dream placed his head into the crook of my neck as he leaned over me and brought his lips to my ear.

"Then you'll just have to try not to scream _too_ loudly," he whispered.

I shuddered from the feeling of his breath against my skin and the promise of how hard that would be to do simply from the way I felt as his hand crept into my panties and then flesh and ran his finger from the top of the crevice down to the bottom.

"Annnh..." I started to cry but stifled it by biting my bottom lip.

My pants were suddenly down around my ankles in one forceful pull and he lowered his body to accompany them in their journey.

"You accused me of liking scat," he said and I felt his breath on my butt where once only seconds ago it had touched my ear. "I can't tell you if I do or not but I can show you that I most certainly hold no objections to where it comes out from."

He pushed his head into my buttocks then. The feeling of it pressed into me in just the place where I had often desired and suffered shame and guilt for wanting a man to do to me made bliss claim my body. I felt his tongue dipping into my crack and flicking against the hole as his fingers crawled towards my vulva and labia. After a few strokes, they slowly went inside as he began to rub my vastly swelling bud. The feeling was intense and swept through me, making me moan and whimper as I tried to quell it and let Jack continue his peaceful slumber. It was difficult; the Dream's tongue so soft as it licked my asshole and his fingers too adoring on my clit.

" _Dream...dream...dream...dream_ ," I repeated in my mind, sounding like an old Everly Brothers song. 

The pleasure was swelling and I was surrendering to it, bucking my hips. Remembering my painful past it suddenly felt like I had gone from a nightmare to a dream as my lover played with me. I felt the pressure building until I felt like I was going to pee.

"I've got to go...I've got to go the bathroom," I moaned.

The Dream took his face out of my ass to tell me in a self pleased tone, "No you don't."

Pushing his face back into my buttocks and hole, his fingers knew just what manipulation to play on my bud to show me that my body was preparing for another act entirely. I came violently, needing to bite down forcefully on my tongue as a series of clenches were performed by my clitoris, cunt and anus; the last of which the Dream must have felt on his tongue still at work on me.

My orgasm finally over, I leant over the crib, panting and I felt the Dream standing behind me suddenly. His fingers dipped inside of my folds and collected the fluid pooling there as Jack looked up briefly to see what was going on and then returned back to his sleep.

I didn't need to turn to know that the man was using my cream to coat his erect penis for when he entered me as he was readying to do. When he had repeated his action twice, he bent me forward again and aimed his now wet erection at my entrance. Dazed I wondered in thrilled ecstasy at which hole he was going to choose when the door to the nursery opened and prevented me from ever finding out.

"Dream there's a problem with..." I heard a concubine in the process of saying. Her voice halted when she took in the sight of her Master with his pants down and about to fuck the more than willing nanny.

"WHAT DAMNIT?" the Dream demanded, upset that his impatient penis was being interrupted from doing what it was now so eager to finally do.

"There's a problem with the plumbing," the woman said coldly.

The Dream swore again and began to pull up his pants. If anything could make him forego answering his penis' demands it was the citizens of Comfort's needs to be free of feces.

I turned to look at him as my large bum was still on display and we exchanged a regretful gaze for we both knew then that our discovery would mean that he could not return that night to finish what we had started. He touched my butt longingly before he left and I could feel the concubine's eyes on me just as the Dream had felt mine on him at the window.

"Fatso," the woman said before she left but it didn't hurt. Not really. Not compared to the agony of knowing that the Dream would be forced to make love to some other girl that night with my cream still covering his cock anyway.

* * *

I lay in bed that night still hungry and unsatisfied, wanting the Dream to place his member deep within me and offer to him in return the pleasure which he had given to me. When a key being placed in the lock disrupted the quiet and the door opened to the nursery, I unwisely hoped and thought it would be him.

"Dream," I whispered in the darkness.

But it was not the Dream.

Through the door filed a line of his concubines, their guns aimed at me. I went to scream but one of the women was instantly by my head, covering my mouth. Several girls came to restrain me and I knew the one whom had found Dream about to penetrate me had ran to the others in the Harem to reveal what she had come across. This was to be my punishment, I knew. In terror, thoughts filled my head about what they were going to do to me and how I was about to be made to pay for my perceived transgression against them.

But it wasn't me they had planned to hurt.

In an agony I could never describe, I watched as one of the concubines went to where Jack was sleeping in the crib and my dream turned into a nightmare once more.

* * *

The Dream had chosen the first girl he had seen that he had never believed it to be a possibility that he could find attractive to care for the baby he loved more than he had ever expected to. Eventually he had just unexpectedly fallen in love with me and I had felt the same way for him also. Often love happens when it is most inconvenient and when you don't want it to. The women in his Harem could not understand this though. I was fat and ugly to them, a rival most undesirable. Trying to figure out where the attraction had stemmed from they had centered on the baby and left both him and I out of their narrow perceptions. Believing that if they were to get rid of the baby that the Dream would go back to being theirs and that there would finally be no longer any use for me, they had killed Jack.

I ran towards the crib as soon as they let me go, wailing and crying out as the women filed out of the nursery in the same fashion as they paraded down Comfort's streets. As the door shut, I picked up Jack's poor lifeless body in the dark little room we had shared together for so long now and cradled him as if he were still breathing and could be consoled for the pain he had suffered but no longer felt. I offered to God a prayer for his safe journey and the chance to see him again up in Heaven or here on Earth; whichever it was to be.

I didn't want the Dream to have to see him like that. I wanted to spare him the pain I had been made to suffer.

Jack still in my arms, taking a blue blanket from out of the crib, I wrapped his limp body in it and headed for the nursery door one final time.

Walking down the corridor, holding my poor, sweet baby to my heart, I passed by a she-wolf standing in each doorway on my way to the staircase and the front door. They watched my departure and each trailed in behind me, making sure I would keep right on walking, their guns aimed at my back incase I changed my mind.

I wouldn't, of course. Risking the Dream seeing what they had done to his son...

Knowing what they could do to the Dream if I stayed...

I could no longer remain in Comfort.

There was none left for me there anyway.

I walked straight to the front door and outside into the rising morning sun, leaving the mansion, the she-wolves and the Dream behind me.


	5. Lullaby Under a Desert Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I bury Jack and sing to him one final lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warred with myself over if this chapter should be this short or not. It was intended to be longer but something just felt right making it this length.
> 
> Centering it on the burial of Jack felt right to me; I came to love that little guy and wanted to give him the proper send off without too much distraction.

I had little to no idea of where I was going, only that I wanted to bury Jack's body as far away from the Dream's mansion and his group of murderers as I possibly could. If I had known where his mother had been buried I would have lain her baby close to her side to sleep until the final judgement day. But Dream had never disclosed this fact to me and all I could hope for was to find someplace nice to rest my poor little one.

In order to do this I needed a shovel, however, and had to return back towards Comfort to find one.

An older man with long white hair was sitting by what looked like an old shed and inside of it I could see several gardening tools, including about four shovels in various conditions ranging from good to trash worthy. It was clear that the man was a scavenger and collected anything he could fit inside of the shed which was also his home.

"Excuse me, sir?" I asked, holding the baby's already cooling body close to my heart. I knew that his small size was making his warmth fade all that much quicker and it hurt me to the very heart I was pressing him so near to to realize it. If I could give him any of my own I desperately would have. As it were, though, all I could do was hold him. "Could I please have a shovel?"

The man looked at me from the shoes on my feet to the pajama bottoms on my legs all the way to my "The Dream is Inside of Me" shirt, the words of which were being blocked by the dead infant, and tear stained face and muttered. "You gotta blow me first."

"What?" I asked in repulsed disbelief.

He smiled a perfectly polite grin and repeated, "You gotta _blow_ me first."

I shifted in my shoes. Although I wanted to bury Jack that particular price wasn't one I was willing to pay. "I don't think so," I stated and started to walk away in the search of a better bargain. 

"You got any drugs?" he called out to me and I spun around. I suddenly wished I had taken some from the Dream's mansion as currency but the thought had never even occurred to me.

"No," I replied.

"How about the kid?"

"What do you want with a dead baby?" I asked, holding Jack protectively to my chest.

"To eat it," came the man's reply.

I started to walk away again.

"What about the shirt off your back?" he shouted out another deal.

I paused. It was too large for the thin, old coot, and I didn't know why he wanted it but it seemed like an okay trade. Although the idea of flaunting my large belly around wasn't appealing I would be leaving the populated Comfort for the desert soon and it would probably become too hot for too much clothing anyway. Besides it was for my baby and it would be worth it if I was certain he was at rest someplace safe.

Putting Jack gently on the ground, I started to remove the shirt. The old guy watched with interest and his eyes became like fishbowls as he read what was written on its white front.

"You one of the Dream's girls?" he asked in fear.

"Yes," I answered, knowing it was best not to add that I wasn't anymore.

The man rushed into his shed immediately and grabbed one of his shovels. It appeared to be one of the better ones. Throwing it at my feet he exclaimed, "Why didn't you say it was for _him_. He keeps us free from shit; he done saved us, each and all!"

I picked up baby Jack first and then the shovel. "Thanks," I said.

The scavenger looked me over again. "I didn't know that the Dream liked 'em so _big._ "

I thought of the man I had just left and all we had been through and had come to unexpectedly mean to one another. When would he awaken, go to the nursery and find out that it was empty, that Jack and I had gone? Had he already discovered the fact or was he still sleeping in the thin, beautiful arms of the concubine whom had probably done her best to keep him distracted while the other she-wolves performed their horrible and evil mission?

I hoped, at least, that in time he would miss and remember his child and the large woman that had been chosen to care for him for a few months.

Smiling sadly I commented, "I don't think he did either," before turning around and walking away. 

* * *

I walked for a while, away from Comfort and the safety it had offered me. Remembering the words I had heard when the Dream and his estrogen entourage had discovered me under the sun, which had been as equally damning as it was now, I shuddered.

_"It will be dark soon and the cannibals will be out."_

Cannibals.

One of my biggest fears alongside piranhas and volcanoes.

I didn't want to bump into any and the logic behind the words seemed like fallacy as well. Cannibals were not vampires; they could come out whenever they fricken well wanted to. At least, I had a shovel to defend myself with but the thought wasn't very comforting. Burying Jack took priority and then finding somewhere safe to go to came next.

Maybe if I found myself back at the border I could explain what had happened and they would listen this time and finally believe me. It was delusional, of course. Once you were part of the Bad Batch they never let you cross over again. Bad you stayed and forgotten about as well.

A unique rock formation caught my eye after some more walking. I made a point to remember where I was going and how to get to this spot so I could someday get word to Jack's father of where it was; then I could tell him where exactly his child had been buried. The Dream deserved that much. He had loved his baby boy so much even though he had tried not to. We had made a sweet family for a bit and it was only right for Comfort's Master to know where to pay his respect and grieve over where his son was laid to rest.

With a forceful shove, after laying the child a few feet to my right, I rammed the head of the shovel into the ground and began the difficult task of digging a hole that would be big and deep enough for what the earth would have to carefully cradle for who knew how long.

I wasn't a fast worker and with every second of toil committed under the blaring sun I regretted not taking some water with me before leaving the mansion also; water, drugs and one of the concubines' guns would have come in handy away from the protection the settlement had offered and I cursed myself for not hesitating a moment or two before departing. Looking at Jack's lifeless and tiny body, however, and knowing I had fled in a hurry to spare the man I loved the pain I had been forced to endure, I found the power to forgive myself.

The hole now finished, I went to the baby and picked him up as tenderly as if he had been breathing. Bestowing a kiss on his forehead, now warm only from having been out in the merciless heat for so long, I rocked him to and fro and sang to him one last lullaby.

"Baby mine, don't you cry,

Baby mine, dry your eyes,

Rest your head close to my heart,

Never to part, baby of mine..."

It was from Dumbo and one of the songs I knew most of the words to by heart. When my mother had died I had sung it to her moments before she had taken her own last breath in the palliative ward that had witnessed her passing. I had been her baby but right then it had seemed so right to send her off to whatever came next with that song and with those words. For in her final days, her body and mind being destroyed by cancer, she hadn't seemed like the strong women she had been for most of her life but a confused and often angry little girl, trying to please and be reassured.

She had been my _baby_ then.

"Little one when you play,

Don't you mind what they say,

...

Let those eyes sparkle and shine

Never a tear, baby of mine..."

After her death I had become involved with the man that had betrayed me. Maybe he had used me because of that vulnerability. Maybe he would have used me anyway. I could never be sure. I only knew that one of the worst things after the whole mess had been worrying what my mother would have thought of me. She had always said I was smart and that she trusted me. I think of all the things I hated my betrayer for it was that one thing the most: that he had made me disappoint her.

Now, though, that was a million lifetimes away and I was singing to my sweet lost boy and praying that God would care for him until I saw him again. For Jack had never been part of us, the Bad Batch; he had only been unfortunate to be born to those of us whom were.

"If they knew sweet little you,

They'd end up loving you too,

All those same people who scold you,

What they wouldn't give just for,

The right to hold you,

From your head to your toes,

You're not much, goodness knows,

But you're so precious to me,

Cute as can be, baby of mine..."

One last kiss, one final prayer to God, this time including my gratitude for having been given the chance at all to know and love Jack, I placed him into the ground and began to replace the displaced earth on him one shovelful at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank Churchill composed the music to Baby Mine and Ned Washington wrote the lyrics.


	6. Dream 'scape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While walking through the desert a group of cannibals mistake me for dessert. Luckily someone comes along just when I need him the most.

Walking through a void filled with sand and rocks, under a sky of blue holding a fiery sun unobcsured by nonexistent clouds, I felt sweat pouring down my face and also the rest of my body. There was no wind present which didn't help in cooling me off but, at least, it didn't blow the sand on to my wet body and make it coated in dirt. I was as parched as the ground beneath my feet and I knew that if I had one hope of surviving I needed to return to Comfort. There I could hopefully find some water and be smart enough to take it with me when I returned back to this horrible landscape.

Avoiding the Dream would hopefully be easy as well. As long as he wasn't doing one of his usual parades around the settlement I should be fine. Help could be found if I used the man's influence also; my shirt would aid me, I prayed, as it had done with the scavenger.

I was heading back to Comfort, the setting sun at my back, when I saw several shadows join mine ahead of me. They were large and intimidating and at first I hoped that maybe a couple of cliffs had started to follow this poor and tired soul to keep her company. However, when I turned around, I saw that my fear that they were merely humans and thus far more dangerous was true.

There were three men, two women and a little girl. All of the men and one of the women were so muscled they belonged on gym posters. The remaining woman, a blonde, was petite and pretty. The little girl clung to one of the men's, the one with long brown dreadlocks, legs and he smiled down at her lovingly. The child looked up into the man's eyes so sweetly that I wanted to say, "Awwww..."

It was a heartwarming moment.

Then the girl said one word and had to spoil it all.

"Supper?"

The man, presumably both her father and the leader of the cannibals, nodded and patted her now smiling head.

Several feet away from them, I turned, dropped the shovel (what good could it do against human beings built like bulldozers, I reasoned?) and started to run. I have always been fast on my feet, more so than my large size would suggest. Once I beat my far skinnier friend in a school race and I always felt bad for her having been outrun by a chubby girl like myself. Now with a handful of hungry cannibals after me, my speed had increased despite my dehydration and fatigue. Although, to tell the truth, I found it hard to blame them for hunting me down; being cannibals they probably had taken one look at a butterball like me and seen quite a few days worth of meals and plenty of leftovers besides.

Still I couldn't _willingly_ donate my body and life to their cannibalistic food drive.

I did pretty okay for a while, I thought; shocking them with just how fast a fat chick could run when given the right momentum. Only after a while when one muscle man and one muscle woman flanked me did I finally figure out that they were playing like dogs or wolves would do with a rabbit they had marked as their prey. They grinned from either side at me, their future intended meal, and I felt another cannibal come up from behind and throw his own weight on top of me. While I was mostly flab he was all muscle and there was no contest. He smiled and laughed as we fell together, rolled for a bit and then he pinned me down. I looked from my place on the sandy floor to see the leader, blonde and little girl behind my head looking well pleased and nodding in approval.

Then a sharp, loud noise sounded through the fiery air of the end of day and the bodybuilding maneater restraining me toppled over. Two more bullets found their way to each one of the cannibals which had chased me down and I watched as they fell to the ground beside me. With gratitude and praising both God and Christ, I pushed the heavy corpse from off of me to see my other savior and give him my thanks.

Standing with the sun falling in flames into the jagged mountains in the distance behind him, my mouth fell open and my jaw dropped as I saw my Dream. One of the guns he usually left for his concubines to weild was in his hands. He was alone but as fearless and calm as if he had an army with him.

I scrambled on hands and knees to him. Grabbing one of his legs, I looked between my hero and the three remaining cannibals. To my surprise, Dream seemed to recognize them.

"Hello Arlen," he greeted the blonde before turning his gaze to the little girl. "How you doing, Honey? Where's your bunny?"

The child looked ashamed and grabbed her father's leg in imitation of my own stance with the Dream.

"She one of yours?" the muscle man asked. "We saw the shirt and all but... _really_? She's not your usual type."

The Dream nodded solemnly. "She's my woman."

I held on to his leg even tighter as he continued.

"We've always had our issues. My tribe and yours. I'm gonna let you go for her sake," Comfort's leader said motioning towards the child, "but know this: you hurt this woman and I will have your people slaughtered and sell your blood as kool-aid at my next rave."

The man seemed to understand this and agree to it.

"You never leave Comfort," Arlen stated. "She means that much to you?" 

The Dream took one of the hands from off of the gun to pet the top of my head. "Yes. More than Comfort itself."

I pressed my head into the leg close to me, rubbed it with my face and kissed it.

The woman likewise kissed the bulging arm of her own lover, obviously finding my relationship with the leader of Comfort similar to her own with the leader of the cannibals.

Without saying any other words, the three left us, presumably heading home together. Only after they were safely away did the Dream lower his gun and squat down beside me. 

"Erin," he reprimanded softly. "You damn, stupid fool. What the Hell were you thinking leaving the mansion like that? It's dangerous outside of Comfort and don't you know by now...you're _mine_?"

I started to cry. The words made me feel so good although every feminist alive would tell me I was crazy and that they shouldn't. To belong to somebody had been all I had ever wanted since I was a little girl: waiting for to hear them from a man I loved with my whole heart. But they also wounded my soul for I hated to actually tell him what had driven me outside of the safety of the settlement he ran.

I tried to bite my lip to stop my tears but he saw it and understood my torment. He brought a hand to my hair, now dusty from sand, and stroked it. "They killed him. They killed our, Jack. I know Erin."

The tears began to fall from my eyes then and down my cheeks, leaving trails in the dirt which covered them also. The Dream tried to wipe them away only to end up making his fingers muddy. As I started a cry that turned into a scream of pain, my Dream man embraced me passionately and we wailed, the both of us, as the sky went from crimson to black.


	7. A Dream Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dream and I return to the mansion and he makes my dream come true by finally making love to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is revised. I wanted to go back to my initial idea for the love scene so I changed it to suit that more timid and tender idea.

We managed to get back to the mansion relatively quickly and without further incident. My protector kept his gun placed over his shoulder and on full display to anybody that might be watching and foster any ideas to add us to their night's menu. I showed him briefly where Jack was buried and the Dream nodded and bid his farewell with a single word:

"Goodbye."

The stars and moon were out in their distant and plentiful glory by the time we crossed the mansion's threshold and I moved closer to the Dream as I noticed that the she-wolves were all waiting for our return. Well for their Master's return anyway. I didn't need the scowls on their faces and their hate filled gazes to tell me that their watch was meant for the Dream and not myself; I had learned from experience that they would have better preferred that I was left in the desert to become either food for the vultures, worms or cannibals. I wasn't sorry to disappoint them.

"We're glad she's okay," one of the women managed to say, her tone false and overly sweet.

"Sure you are," the Dream replied back with a smirk. 

He placed his arm around my waist and started to walk towards his bedroom and I felt both the harem's anger and wounded pride floating in the air like the most rotten and pungent of aerosol sprays.

When we reached the door to his inner sanctum, the Dream turned around. "I'll deal with you all tomorrow. There will not only be Hell to pay but the Hell inside of Hell too. So you'd best be a praying that I don't hear which of you were involved with this whole mess. Murderers will be killed: an eye for an eye in Comfort."

With this decree and the concubines looking scared and sorrowful, the Dream ushered me inside and behind the door. As it shut, however, I saw the she-wolves expressions change to ones of anger and their eyes dart from their Master and focus in resentment on members of their own rank instead. In that moment, I clearly saw again how much they loathed each other and not only me.

"Are you really going to tell them all off tomorrow?" I asked skeptically.

"Of course not," the Dream replied. "We're spending one last night here, stocking up on what we need and then packing it up and leaving. I made one settlement...I can make another."

"And rebuild your Babylon?" I inquired, folding my sand covered arms and eyeing him in disapproval.

"No. This time I just choose for myself one fucking Queen to rule it with," the Dream declared.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a kiss which was yearnful and passionate. His lips were hungry as they found my own, and though I still lacked much experience in the simple art of kissing, the Dream was a very good teacher and intended to instruct me, to both of our great pleasure.

His hands each grabbed a handful of my ass to squeeze and I wrapped my own hands around his strong back. By the time we parted, I was out of breath and dizzy from the action I had hated to see end. The Dream felt my clothed bottom again and then studied my face and body. "You're covered in dirt, Erin," he commented.

One of his hands left my butt to feel where I had gotten some sand on his face following our kiss. "Damn, you need a bath!"

"You don't want me like this," I said, holding out my arms in a tongue and cheek display of my dirty, round self.

He smiled. "I'd take you like it, sure, but I want your first time to be special. Go into the room over there and fix yourself a bath," he instructed as he pointed to where the bathroom was located.

I nodded. As I was walking away, he gave my ass a quick, hard slap, an action which I rather enjoyed.

Inside of the bathroom I found several towels, a few soaps in varying scents and a large bathtub itself. I removed and then fired my sand covered clothing on to the floor, starting the water for the tub while I was wearing only my birthday suit. As it was running, I decided on a bar of soap which seemed the less likely to irritate my skin with too much fragrance: I had always been too sensitive both physically and emotionally. Slipping into the tub, I started by washing my hair with plain water when I heard the door opening and discovered to my relief and shame that it was only the Dream. Relief because it wasn't one of the concubines come to seek vengeance but shame too because my body still embarrassed me. I went to cover myself but he shouted out, "No," stopping me.

"I got to make sure you do it right," the man stated. "Wash yourself for me, Erin."

My hand trembling and at the same time a stirring of arousal beginning deep inwardly, I lathered up the soap and started to rub my suds covered hands over my upper body as the Dream watched me from his place by the door. He took a few steps closer, as I finished with my arms and turned my focus to my large chest, desiring a better view. 

When I had been a girl suffering the first pains of puberty and then a teenager, I would often look at my body in the mirror and pretend that I was undressing for a man or showing my naked body off to him. Time spent in the tub washing my breasts, I would imagine the same and find myself getting turned on by the thought of it. That, of, course, had been when I was younger and unaware that besides my weight my chest, despite being large, wasn't the ideal found in the pages of Playboy or Penthouse magazine. I dreamt of a man who I could make excited and whom loved me just as I was.

Now, though, in reality, I was becoming aroused again by washing myself in front of the Dream. From the lusty look in his eyes, I could tell he had no objections to my imperfections. There was a wetness building between my legs, separated from the water which surrounded it in the tub by the folds of the skin of my crotch. Still I could feel it there along with my swelling clit and readying vagina. As I started to spend extra care washing my nipples, the act of touching them feeling so good, I heard the Dream moan and his hand dip to the bulging seat of his trousers. He unzipped them hurriedly and pulled out his erection, beginning to run his hand up and down its thick and long shaft. It was a red and sore appearing part of him and it entranced me as I continued to wash my chest free from the suds, all the while, as he insisted on playing with himself.

"Stand up," he commanded huskily, his fingers tugging on the head of his cock. "Gotta make sure you do the rest now.

This commandment frightened me even more than the last. For while sitting in the bathtub my stomach had been partly obscured, this would reveal it. Still, my feet did as was instructed of them and I stood cautiously in the tub. I saw him take in the sight of me and was overjoyed that he still seemed unfazed by my weight and his cock seemed just as demanding as ever. While I started to wash my belly, I could see a bit of precome appearing at the slitted opening of the Dream's penis and he used it to help his hand slide up and down his length more freely.

"Now your legs, Erin. Your thighs," the Dream moaned, his hand giving his shaft a few violently quick runs and squeezes.

I lathered the soap there with my hands, feeling my bud throbbing close by. As if knowing this, sensing it from his place feet away, the Dream fixed his focus there instead. "Now go inside," he ordered greedily.

My hand dipped in between the folds of my labia.

"Up to your clit," came another instruction.

I gave it a few rubs and it reacted gratefully before I started to take my hand away.

"Not good enough," the man criticized, his penis quite red now and very wet. "You got to clean it better than that. It must be very dirty."

My soapy fingers dipped back inside.

"Around and around it," the Dream urged as he brought his other hand to the tip of his engorged cock and showed me how.

My finger circled my clitoris and I started to move my hips from the sensation claiming me. I was whimpering as the Dream made me masturbate myself just as we was doing. 

"Rub the tip of it; push it in," he changed the direction and I complied.

This made the bliss intensify. I felt my cunt clenching as I felt the urge to urinate growing but knew that it was something else building.

"Faster," he commanded and increased his own pumping of his leaking organ.

"Annnhh," I moaned as I did just that, feeling my clitoris becoming just as urgent as the beautiful cock in the Dream's hand.

We stood in the bathroom playing with ourselves while we watched each other masturbating, half crazed with wanting what we saw on the other side of the room but having to stimulate our own parts instead.

My hips started to buck, my orgasm having finally arrived and my whole lower area spasming mercilessly. I saw the Dream following suit, shooting out a jet of semen as I continued to come with a lot less show, other than the trembling. Having finished his ejaculation and breathing deeply as if in savoring it, the man walked towards me and stepped into the tub, taking me into his arms again. He was the one to take the towel from off of the bathtub's edge and begin to wipe me off. I went to bend over and wash the cream off from between my legs but he stopped me, holding me closer and getting a little wet in the process.

"Leave it," he whispered into my ear. "We're going to need it, Erin."

The Dream kissed me again and I returned it with more confidence.

Breaking apart, he rubbed his chin against my cheek. "Good girl, you're learning," he praised, his hand using the towel to dry my ass off. "Now go into the bedroom. You'll find something waiting for you on the bed. Get into it. I'll be in shortly to get into you in return."

"You can do that?" I asked. "You don't need more time?"

He smiled coyly. "I'm called the Dream for many reasons. That little bit of fun we just had...well I hate to see a good erection go to waste."

I smiled and carefully stepped out of the tub and walked back to the bathroom, feeling my feet stepping in some of where the Dream's come had landed on to the floor. I was aware of his eyes on me and turned to look over my shoulder at him while I stood in the doorway. He threw me a naughty wink as he started to undress, ready to take his own bath in preperation for what we were about to do.

Entering the bedroom, my heart was racing. It was not only going to be my first time with the man I had fallen in love with but my first time making love ever. He had had numerous lovers already. Most of them were outside of the door, probably fighting amongst themselves. I worried about not satisfying him and the pain. His erection had looked so large and I was terrified about what it would feel like when he first tore inside of me. With each step towards the bed where the Dream's surprise awaited me, I was grateful for the wetness I felt there and that the Dream had been wise enough to keep me from getting rid of. 

I found a large silk negligee of black waiting for me on the bed wearing its own satin sheets. It was too big for any of the she-wolves and I doubted he had taken any of them during their pregnancies so apparently he had foreseen his victory of me long in advance. I put it on quickly and then sat down on the edge of the mattress and looked at my hands. I was nervous about the Dream making love to me. I wasn't skilled, I barely had confidence. What would it be like when he touched me himself instead of having me do it for him. 

When the man finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his usual robe of deep blue, he found me still fretting on the bed. He came and sat down next to me, placing his arms around me.

"Hey," he commented. "You worried?"

I nodded, staring down at my fingers linked together as my hands rested on my knees.

"Get into bed," he instructed softly. "I'll show you that there is nothing to be afraid of."

He stroked my hair back from my head and kissed my temple gently. I crawled into bed and under the covers and the Dream discarded his robe and crawled in on top of me, making sure not to place his full weight on me. I could feel his penis, hard once more against my thigh and moaned. My lover kissed me and began to toy with my nipple through the silken fabric, massaging it lightly.

"When I was a little girl," I stated, "I used to wash myself and picture the man I loved, and would be with someday, watching me. I never knew that it would be you. But I'm glad that it is."

The Dream kissed me sweetly and then looked lovingly into my eyes. "And all those years ago when I wanted to love somebody but was afraid it was all a lie and a bunch of bullshit...I never thought it would be you...but I'm grateful too."

His words made me brave and I took his cock in my hands and began to stroke it. The Dream kissed me cautiously and after a bit I felt the member starting to weep into my hand.

"Can I make love to you?" he whispered into my ear and I nodded, relinquishing my hold on his swollen cock.

As he kissed me passionately yet tenderly, Comfort's leader pushed inside of me. I was grateful for the wetness below which made his entrance easier and less painful. Still it hurt.

"Shhhh," the Dream consoled. "Shhhh..."

He waited a bit before he started to move and the longer he did, slow but confident thrusts I found my pain disappearing and being replaced by pleasure. We kissed and tentatively explored one another's bodies with our hands and fingers while we moved against each other. 

He was a more shy lover than I had expected. Maybe it was his age or that he was worn out from months of youthful lovers. Most probably, I knew, it was because he really loved me. This was the man behind the Dream I was being offered, I understood fully. One as frightened as I was and not so damned confident but whom loved me and was vulnerable because of it. 

Realizing this made me climax, a gasping, violent cry that seemed to startle him. Then he smiled down at me, and while he kissed me hungrily, he came as well. I enjoyed the feeling of it more than I had ever dreamt I would. 

Finished for the moment, the Dream lay on top of me and stroked my damp hair away from my forehead as he stared tenderly into my eyes. I was crying, my natural response to the fact that I had at last committed the act that I had yearned to for so long with the man that I loved with all of my heart. 

"I love you," I whispered now as soft as my climax was loud. 

The tears fell down my cheeks as warm as the semen spilling out of me and onto my thighs.

"I love you too, Erin," the Dream said and kissed my lips as I wept ever more freely for he had lived up to his name and made my own childhood dream come true.


	8. The Dream is Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I show the Dream how to pray while the she wolves fight amongst themselves, eventually turning Comfort into a shithole.

We both slept for a bit; the only dream I had was sleeping in the bed next to me and when I awoke I found him staring at me longingly. It was a mixture of many things: love, lust, greed, affection and possessiveness. Liking it, I wriggled into the satin sheets, looking into his dark and loving eyes as I felt his seed still on my thigh.

"Erin," the Dream said, stroking my left cheek. "You were a bad girl."

"I was?"

"Yes," the man stated. "You forgot to say your prayers last night."

"I think that God would understand," I remarked.

"And I think He'd like to hear from you," the Dream argued. "Get on your knees by the side of this bed and show me how you pray for me."

Generally one wasn't supposed to pray in front of others. God wasn't pleased with making a show of devotion to Him. However, this seemed a simple enough request and I hoped that maybe I could reach Comfort's leader by showing him what the humbled act of praying looked like.

I crawled out of bed and, as I went, the Dream's hands crawled up the negligee and grabbed my ass, giving each cheek a hungry little squeeze. Nearly falling out of bed from shock and arousal, I managed to save myself. Clambering on to my feet and then knees at the side of the bed, I watched as my lover quietly and confidently arose from the bed and stood at its end. Along the way, he had grabbed something from out of the drawer but I couldn't see what it was.

I started to pray, eyes closed and voice silent, like I always did, the words in my head and hopefully going straight to God.

"I want to hear you," the Dream commanded. "Let me hear you, Erin."

Beginning once more, I started to pray for the welfare and salvation of the Dream's soul

"God please let the Dream find You. Please show him that he needs Your help and that he isn't really You. Watch over his soul and keep it safe..."

I heard the sound of something being flipped open and squirted out while I talked but kept my eyes closed.

"He has a good heart but his brain is severely twisted and messed up. He tries his best but he has gone wayward. Please bring him the peace and wisdom that only You can offer."

I felt the subject of my plea slipping down on his knees close behind me and started to hear the sound of something being greased up. It was a slippery, sloshy sound and I swallowed heavily, suspecting what it was.

"Please also have mercy on him because he's not really sure what on Earth he's doing or what he's gotten himself into..."

The Dream spread my legs and lifted my lingerie. He placed his once more hardened cock at my ass' entrance and I knew from the feel of it poised at the gatrway that, this time, he knew _exactly_ what he wanted to get himself into.

Suddenly the man leaned over me without entering my body but took my praying hands and made his own mimic mine as he clasped them.

"Lord, we haven't always gotten along...You do things I _don't_ understand and I probably do things that You _don't_ understand either. But either way I think we both love this woman right here very much and I thank You for her. I promise to be a better man and to change...And I promise never to hurt her...only in the ways that she wants me to..."

The Dream shoved his erect and well lubed penis a little bit further in as he placed his lips close to my ear and whispered, " _Do_ you want me to?"

I did, I realized. I was on my knees praying to the God I loved, with the man I loved on the other side, his dick hot, swollen and wonderfully on the verge of ramming up my ass. I wanted this mixture of God and sex, spirit and body _painfully_ right there and then.

"Yes!" I cried out and that was all the Dream needed.

I could feel myself being impaled on his engorged piece of flesh. It hurt badly at the start but even then I realized that it would have been far worse if he hadn't made his cock so very well prepared beforehand.

"Keep praying baby girl," he whispered and then bit my earlobe.

"Please b-bless my-my sis-sister..." I began again, feeling the Dream beginning to take small, testing little thrusts inside of me to see how much I could handle. "F-find a way to let her know that I am safe."

He was becoming more confident then, seeing that I was taking it better than he had probably expected. His mouth found my neck and was kissing it violently; all while his member was spreading me wide and his hands remained praying to God.

"Thank you for all of your blessings. You are t-tr-truly good... and p-please take care of J-Jack and say hello to him f-for us. And thank Y-You for letting me f-find the D-Dream because I love him, God..."

That did it. My lover's hands in gratitude moved from their position dipping underneath the negligee and started to feel my chest forcefully. He played with my nipples rubbing and gently tugging on them, trying to call them out.

"AMEN!" I cried out and the Dream and I went on to the floor like two dogs going at it.

He was still painfully buried inside of me but his hands were exploring me, playing with my tit and eventually one lowering to find my swelling clit to attend to that also. Pain suddenly admitted defeat and turned into pleasure as we went at it on the Dream's bedroom floor.

I was screaming out loudly while he was grunting and moaning, pounding into me and consequently rubbing my butt in a pleasant way in the process. Another loud cry accompanied my orgasm and as I was violently spasming around him the Dream succumbed to his own. With his last spurt, he purposely fell backwards, holding me as he did so. We lay together on his plush carpet trying to catch our breaths and covered in sweat.

That was when we realized that the screaming hadn't stopped when I had.

And that the sound of bullets being fired mixed with them throughout the mansion on the other side of the door.

Rolling over, the Dream exited from me and reached under his bed, grabbing two guns from underneath it. One he handed to me while he kept the other for himself.

"Is the door locked?" I asked in a whisper, feeling his seed leaking out from my ass and on to my back thigh. At least, I assumed it was just his come, I thought in embarrassment.

He nodded, afraid of making a sound and alerting the she-wolves of our presence again. I initially thought that if anything would have done that it would have been the sounds of our lovemaking but then again they might have only mistaken them as yet more sounds of a slaughter: sex and violence were sometimes hard to differentiate.

The Dream came to my side and then slipped behind me to wrap his arms around my waist protectively. We sat in silence on the floor, the Dream in his robe of blue and me in the same black negligee. From outside the door we could hear a sound quite opposite to that of our mutual quiet; there was a massacre taking place, the concubines finally having reached the limit of their tension.

When the last bullet was fired and the final scream made, the Dream relinquished his hold on me and we both stood, holding our guns defensively. Walking to the door, we cautiously stepped out to discover the aftermath of the harem's war.

The floor of the mansion was littered with both bodies and blood alike. Every corpse of a concubine contained a gun held in her hand, not one of them having left this world without having fired it at least once. She-wolf had taken down she-wolf and brought extinction to their kind. In a further cruel and unnecessary and selfish act they had proceeded to kill each other's children as well; wishing no survivors to their enemies' bloodlines.

"I guess, they couldn't stand expecting your punishment," I stated, looking at one of the oldest members of the harem by my bare feet. "They feared your retribution so they took it out on each other instead."

The Dream looked at me and then down at the new floor comprised of skin growing cold in his mansion. I saw guilt on his face, as plain as day, and I felt that God had already started answering my prayer: For if a man could allow himself to feel guilt for his actions their was hope for him yet.

"What's this?" Dream asked and we looked at a swatch of blood in unison. It left a trail as if the source of it had been moving.

We followed it to a door and I looked at my mate in questioning.

"It's the basement," he explained. "Where most of the controls for Comfort's plumbing and waterworks are."

Our eyes met in mingled fear and curiosity before I grabbed the doorknob and turned it slowly.

Stealthily, we began to walk down the basement stairs. That familiar musty scent associated with the area greeted both us and our guns which were ready for anything. The trail of blood led to a control panel where a she-wolf, bleeding horribly from several places in her torso, sat. She had managed to prop herself up despite the damage done to her lean frame and was pushing several buttons and also turning a few dials. So intent was she on her work that she either failed to notice us, or knowing that her death was close at hand, simply did not care. On her face, she wore a look of maniacal glee. The face belonged to the concubine whom had killed Jack and I added one more bullet to her chest for payback which arrived far too late. The woman fell to the floor and the Dream and I walked closer to where she now lay, gasping and smiling as she finally completed her dying.

She looked at her Master in hatred as if seeing him truly for the first time. "All this time we were fighting each other...we really should have been fighting _you_ ," she spat at him.

"Now you know...but you'll never know how damn sorry I really am for it all," the Dream said sorrowfully before pulling the trigger and effectively putting a bullet into her brain, ending the woman's suffering.

It was the kindest thing that he'd probably ever done for her.

After the execution, the Dream turned to the controls. "It's too late," he commented. "She's backed everything up."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

The Dream turned and looked at me calmly. "Shit is finally coming to Comfort," he informed.

* * *

We ran from out of the house as quickly as we could and to the settlement's border. There was no time to run and get changed; we took only our night clothes and guns, our feet rushing as quickly as they would allow us. As we fled, we heard the sounds of pipes backing up and gallons of excrement making its way into the mansion and Comfort itself.

Once we were safely away, we stood and watched as the concubine's goal became a reality. Having finally become disillusioned with her god she had sought in her dying moments to make the rest of his followers suffer as similar a loss of faith as she had. They had seen the Dream as a deity who had saved them from shit. Now it was bursting through their pipes and proving their belief horribly and retchingly wrong. Out of any single conduit it could, crap was gushing out; it even was escaping from the taps the citizens of Comfort drank from and the faucets from which they bathed and showered and ironically made themselves clean.

A large fountain of waste was shooting forth from the settlement's ground and coming down over every dwelling in the city that the Dream had created. God had made his judgment: it was raining shit down on Comfort.

"Still think you're God?" I turned and asked my companion, trying not to gag from the stench drifting to us on the morning wind.

He was staring at the ruins of Comfort a look of stony bemusement on his face.

"No," he said, "I think I'm just a man."

I smiled at him compassionately for it must be hard to fall from Heaven, no matter how much it is deserved. "And what is that man called?"

My love turned to look at me. "Arnold," he offered, successfully making the Dream finally over.

I could have said I loved him then but I chose to show it to him instead. Taking his hand, I brought my face to his and kissed him passionately. Seeing that I loved him just as equally as a human being named Arnold as I did when he was a golden calf named the Dream, we walked away from the uncomforted: a middle aged man in a robe and his fat female lover in a black negligee, guns slung over our shoulders and our hands linked together between us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all have enough toilet paper for this last chapter or could you find any left in the stores? Sorry. Couldn't help myself there.
> 
> Seriously, though, this was the way this story was set to end from pretty well the beginning of its creation when it was intended to be just a one shot. It developed into being eight chapters long and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.
> 
> The she-wolves turning on each other was meant to mimic what I have experienced and seen for myself in reality: women are far more willing to attack each other when a guy is concerned than realizing the problem is with the man himself. Even those whom claim to be feminists will often distrust or stab another woman in the back if a man they love is involved. I remember reading an article with a gaslighter where he said his feminist and powerful girlfriend would cruelly treat any female friend who tried to warn her about his cheating. He *was* cheating and lying to his girlfriend constantly but she wouldn't hear of it. She saw her friends as enemies more than the one she was sleeping with, believing that he would never dare betray someone like herself.
> 
> So the concubines destroying each other was meant to capture this and how wrong and destructive it is in the end. Love, true love, is meant to turn you into an even better and stronger individual, not an insecure, jealous and spiteful person. The harem spent all of their time and love on a man whom honestly did not deservd or love them or else he would not have treated them that way. Nor would he have needed *all* of them; one would have sufficed. If he had loved any *one* of them then all the rest would be unnecessary.
> 
> Is the Dream innocent in all of this? Certainly not. He was an ass who used these women. But being stuck in the dangerous situation of his own making forced him to realize he was at fault and to learn about his mistakes which is the turning point for any human being. If we can acknowledge our sins and desire change then there is a chance for us.
> 
> I do believe that too. Even for a she-wolf.


End file.
